


Deadshot (eng)

by MoskaFleur



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gay, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoskaFleur/pseuds/MoskaFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro gets shot in battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadshot (eng)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Deadshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840255) by [MoskaFleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoskaFleur/pseuds/MoskaFleur). 



> Betas: xhelloxbeautifullx and cannibal-hymn

Time suddenly froze. The previous few seconds seemed like a distant memory. Neither pirate nor marine could move or speak. Silence filled the air too rapidly. Not a single person was brave enough to break the silence. No one.

Zoro laid on the ground covered in blood and completely unconscious. It was a lucky shot, it fooled the swordsman. Bringing out a gun on someone with swords was playing dirty. Even so, Zoro could have blocked the shot. For fuck’s sake, he could have cut the damn bullet in two if he had wanted to. But he didn’t. Why? Was he distracted? Didn’t he see it coming?

The moment Zoro fell to the floor, the whole room went silent. That image burned into my memory. I remember Sanji running towards him, with a silent whimper trapped inside his throat. I remember his irregular and ragged breathing, filled with panic, it was all that could be heard. How he practically fell on top of him, and how his trembling hands went over his body without really touching him as rivers of tears flowed down his face. His expression, broken.

He grabbed him as he could and pulled Zoro towards him, holding him between his arms and pressing him to his chest. His fingers ran through Zoro’s hair and filled it with his own blood. He gripped a strand of his hair, between intelligible sobs, and pulled him away enough to see his face. But Zoro laid unconscious because of the shock. The second one to react was Chopper, fortunately. Zoro should have died in that moment. It’s simply what I felt. He didn’t and I’ve never been happier of being wrong.

The following days were hell. No one survives a shot through the heart and wakes up peachy the next day. Zoro was exceptional but he was still human. Chopper became restless, he stood by his side throughout his whole recovery. The mood of the whole crew, as you can imagine, was distressed but relieved. Robin was the one who got over it first. She took over the job of cheering us up little by little so we could go back to normal.

Franky, as always, followed her. Nami and Brook were next. Luffy had a hard time. Very hard. He always looked thoughtful during dinnertime.

One night after dinner, Luffy told me he’d avenge Zoro. That he’d find the one who shot him and that he’d kill him. I’ve never seen Luffy that way before. I, well, I got over it like the rest. Little by little, before the increasingly real idea of Zoro recovering completely, it was easier to go on with our lives, to go back to routine. We missed Zoro training, sleeping or drinking on the deck. For fuck’s sake, is this man always there?

But Sanji didn’t get over it. Nevertheless, he did all he could to convince us otherwise. But I’m the king of lies and know when someone is not being honest, as much as they try to hide it. It was probably the performance of his life.

“Sanji, are you going to give Chopper his dinner?” I said, measuring my words by the millimeter.

Sanji hesitated. “No, you take it to him, if you don’t mind” was his answer, to what I nodded and then went away with the tray.

He evaded any contact with Chopper or the infirmary. Hiding didn’t take him anywhere but postponed the inevitable. No one had forgotten his reaction, or his speed in it. We all knew that shot had awakened something in Sanji, or at least made him realized that. But no one said anything about it.

The day Zoro woke up, we spent almost 24 hours surrounding him.

Luffy had recovered his joy completely, he was back to being the same. Nami cut Zoro’s debt by a 25%, not before crying all over his sheet. Brook composed a new song and Franky helped him with the guitar. Chopper ended up kicking everybody out of the room. “Zoro needs to rest” he repeated as he struggled to get Luffy out of the room, who wanted to stay.

When the door closed I could see a dejected but calm expression on his face. I had to talk with him.

* * *

 

The next day I went to the infirmary. “Chopper, I’m not going to bother him, but I need a moment”. Chopper seemed to understand the rushed tone on my voice and let me in.

“Usopp” said Zoro under a lot of bandages and slings which secured his torso on a fixed position for his sternum and ribs to heal.

“Zoro” I answered as I sat by his side. He could barely move, the structure that held his upper body immobilized him to the bed. It was hard seeing him in that state.

His eyes tried to focus in me without success. Drugs kept the pain at bay but left him as a damn vegetable.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Well. Besides the fact that I was shot in the chest, I’m great.” He smiled.

I smiled back. “Luffy has been acting all crazy these days, just so you know. I’d even go as far to say that he ate a 5% less than he does normally.”

His eyebrows went up in surprise. “I can’t believe it, for real? That’s impressive.”

“Yep.”

“Is _he_ coming?”

I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “No.”

“Will he?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence filled the room once more, like that day, just that this time it was thicker. The air felt heavy inside the closed room.

“I want to sleep a while, if you don’t mind.”

I stood up and nodded in silence. “I’ll come another time.”

 

* * *

 

\----xxx----

* * *

 

“You’ve to go see him.”

Sanji silently closed the cutlery drawer painfully slow.

“He asked for you, if you don’t go, he’ll start asking why and it won’t be me who answers him” I added.

Turning over his feet and resting his back against the counter, he looked at me and said “I can’t”.

“Of course you can, are you an idiot or what?” my words, a product of stress, went off more hurtful than intended.

“No, I can’t”. His lips pressed in a thin line, his teeth biting the skin inside his mouth.

Dejected I answered. “I’m sorry I called you an idiot” he looked at me as if he hadn’t even realized I had insulted him.

“You don’t understand, I can’t”. By his tone, I noticed impatience. “No, I-I can’t” He was clearly upset.

Then I went into his personal space. “Are you going to hide in the kitchen forever? What’s going to happen when he steps off the infirmary? When he starts eating at this room again? You will eat in another room then? Will you hide for the rest of your life?” He didn’t even looked at me while as I spoke.

Until I said this. “Or for the rest of his?” then his eyes, like two needles, pierced through mine. I’ve never felt such hostility towards me.

“Out” he answered, practically spitting out the word.

“Go see him” were my last words before I left the kitchen. Adrenaline went through my body. Sanji and Zoro argued constantly. I had witnessed not so friendly fights. They seemed addicted to them, to this adrenaline rise. This knot on the throat that they solved by raising their voices. I’m not like that, I can’t find pleasure on this kind of encounters.

That night I barely closed my eyes.

The next day, Sanji didn’t leave the kitchen.

That afternoon, I cornered Nami in her studio before she left. “You have to talk to him. He’ll only listen to you”.

“I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do” she answered, tired but concerned, while she picked up the papers that the wind from the window had thrown away.

“Of course you can, you’ve done it for years. Since he boarded the ship!” I answered.

She looked at me with a frown, but went back to her calm expression after a couple of seconds. “It’s not that simple”. She said as she put the papers inside the drawer. “It’s Sanji. He will, I know he will, but he needs time.”

“Zoro needs to see him” I answered, letting my arms fall as a sign of defeat.

“Zoro doesn’t know what happened”.

“Maybe or maybe not. But he’ll end up figuring it out if Sanji doesn’t show up at his door as soon as possible”.

“He’ll end up figuring it out if _you-_ ” she made emphasis in the ‘you’ “-tell him”.

“Maybe someone should”.

She grabbed my arm tenderly. “It’s none of our business”.

 

* * *

 

\----xxx----

* * *

 

 

“I suppose he won’t come today as well” Zoro whispered before I left the infirmary after my visit.

“The sooner you get up, the sooner you’ll see him” I tried to smile. “There you have an incentive”.

 

* * *

 

\----xxx---- 

* * *

 

 

The day Zoro stood up and finally left the infirmary, was almost as tense as the day he was shot.

“Zoro, you need to eat at least a bit, ok?” Chopper repeated, as Zoro complained about the pain of swallowing. The surgery to save his life was hurting more than having been shot.

Sanji watched him in silence from the other end of the table. Because Zoro ate slowly, practically everybody else finished their meal and left the room to keep doing their daily tasks. Only Chopper, Zoro, Sanji and I remained at the table. I didn’t have anything to do, and even if that hadn’t been the case, I wasn’t going to miss the scene.

Sanji, that was washing the dishes, sneaked some glances toward Zoro while he wasn’t looking. When he finished cleaning the kitchen, he went off to smoke, leaving the three of us behind.

“I’m not hungry anymore”.

“Zoro, it’s soup, it can’t hurt you, and you need to eat it” Chopper answered.

“I said I don’t want to eat more, I want to go outside”.

Chopper and I exchanged knowing looks and silently accompanied him to the deck. We left him sitting against the mast. Chopper went back to the infirmary, but I sat by his side.

“It’s nice to have some fresh air, eh?”

“I’ve seen how he looks at me” He said, without tearing his gaze away from the horizon.

I sighed in defeat and let my head fall slightly.

“Fuck, has something happened that no one wants to tell me about?” He added with an irritated tone, turning his gaze towards me.

“I don’t think I’m the most adequate person to talk about this” I answered as I looked to the side. The sun burned my skin and bothered my eyes.

“Someone has to be, I want to know what the fuck is going on”.

“The one who should do it doesn’t want to” _And I don’t blame him_ , I thought.

“Fuck him” he blurted.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? _Fuck him_. I don’t know why I shouldn’t.”

A long silence set between us. He couldn’t go anywhere on his own and that tied me to a responsibility that wasn’t mine. Some seagulls chirped not too far from the ship.

“Shit, you both need to talk” I answered.

“Tell me what happened” He breathed tiredly, watching as I messed with my boot laces.

 

* * *

 

\----xxx----

* * *

 

 

 (Zoro’s POV)

The sea breeze brushed my hair back and the movement from the ship started to make me feel nauseated- I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The cook crying for me. Crying. At first I thought he was exaggerating, nevertheless, for the behavior he kept, it made sense. _‘It’s clear he feels something for you. You should have seen him. I’d never seen him like that.’_ Usopp’s words resonated inside my head. We couldn’t keep going on like this. What was he afraid of?

I pushed myself away from the railing and went over the kitchen, where he was supposed to be. I wasn’t wrong.

“I’ve told you no more snacks before dinner!” Said the cook, with his back towards me while he cut God knows what. His back was tense.

“I don’t want a snack” I answered and closed the door behind me.

He didn’t take more than two seconds to turn around, not without cursing “shit” before.

A heavy silence surrounded us.

“Why haven’t you come to see me as everyone else?”

He looked down to his feet and pressed his nails against the border of the counter.

“Cook” I started to walk towards the table and slowly sat down. “You know we won’t leave this room until you tell me what’s your problem, so talk.”

He took a deep breath, lit up a cigarette and sat down in front of me, putting his arms on top of the table. The ashtray, near.

“TALK.”

“Would you mind having some empathy? I’d be very grateful for that at the moment” he answered.

I knew what he was going to say. That he felt something for me. And still, I wanted to hear it already. I wanted him to tell me. I wanted to be closer to him. Maybe it wasn’t about what I wanted, but what I needed. And I needed to be patient.

“All right” I snarled.

We went back to being silent for some seconds, until after a drag from his cigarette, he set his eyes on mine.

“It was me who shot you.”

I noticed how the air left the room, even my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Some instants later – his gaze never leaving mine – practically, fighting for oxygen, I answered.

“What did you say?”

His gaze faltered for a moment. “I said” he hesitated. “That I was the one who shot you.”

I blinked many times in silence, staring at the tablecloth. Digesting what I just heard. This wasn’t what I was expecting. Not even close.

“You shot me?” I whispered. All of a sudden my wound hurt more.

Before his silence, I turned my gaze towards him, to find a curtain of hair covering his eyes. But I could see his jaw tense. “It was an accident” I don’t even know if I asked or asserted it, words left my mouth unwittingly, still assimilating the idea.

“Of course it was!” he begged. He smashed the stub against the ashtray. His hands were trembling. “That marine was going to shoot Nami. I couldn’t get there on time. I took the gun from one of them and fired. I didn’t doubt for even a second. But I missed and hit you instead.” His voice broke at some parts. “I didn’t even see you there.” He sunk his face between his hands – tense elbows resting on top of the table –.

“That’s why you were crying so much…” I said to myself.

He raised his head surprised by the accusation, but right away relaxed his expression, tired. “Usopp told you something.”

“Of course he did, he would have gotten a stomach ulcer otherwise" I noticed how he started to doubt. Of what? “None of them know, don’t worry.”

His gaze hardened. “Maybe they should, I almost killed the future Pirate King’s first mate. Luffy has to know” He stood up and walked, nervously, around the room – hands inside his pockets – giving me his back.

“They don’t need to know. It’s not that they’re going to be pissed with you, but telling them isn’t necessary.”

“I thought you’d understand something like this. I must atone for my guilt, it’s a matter of honor.”

“Very well, I forgive you, there you go” I snapped out as I rose to my feet, losing my patience.

He turned towards me. “It’s not enough.”

“Why not? I’m the victim here. You shot me, I survived, and I forgave you. It’s done.” I said in a higher tone than intended.

“You don’t understand” He remained in silence and looked at his hands. “Blood just kept flowing out. My suit, my shirt, my skin, my hair… everything was stained. I reeked of blood for at least two days. Your blood.” He said with a trembling voice. “I thought I killed you, you were stiff. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Chopper knew what to do.”

“I won’t touch a gun ever again” he mumbled.

I went close to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me” and so he did. He was resisting the impulse to cry, his eyes were glassy. “It’s over. I survived and I’m not going anywhere either. Nothing happened, you got that?”

Slowly, without looking at me, he came closer and let his head fell on my shoulder. It hurt but it was bearable. “I’m so sorry” he whispered. By how he was shaking I could tell he was already crying, but he did so in silence so I couldn’t notice. “You didn’t even see it coming because I wasn’t an enemy.”

“Hey, shh” I put my hand on his nape, and then he put his on mine.

“I could have killed you and everything would have been over” he sobbed _‘What would have been over?’_ I asked myself. His hands grabbed my haramaki by the sides. “This…” he whispered. Did I spoke? Or was I thinking out loud?

“Cook”

After some seconds in that position, I noticed he stopped crying. He tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips against my neck. I stood frozen and at the same time felt an intoxicating warmth due to his closeness. My pulse accelerated. I slightly moved the fingers I had put in his nape, clumsy and fearful of his reaction.

Little by little, almost trembling, he started to raise his head. Without looking at me, he softly dragged his lips by the side of my jaw and then, maybe unintentionally, reached my ear lobe. His breathing was hard and ragged. The hairs on my nape were bristling as I felt his breath on my neck, inhaling my own smell.

I was dying to kiss him, he was just there, I could do it. I turned my head slowly, but before I did anything he put his forehead against mine, keeping his mouth far from my reach.

“I can’t stop thinking about it” he whispered, his breath on my lips. “I can’t-“

“Stop doing it” I answered without tearing my gaze away from his mouth,

Some seconds passed in silence and then he added in a whisper. “I don’t know if I can.”

I knew he wasn’t referring to stop thinking about it. It was something else. The same thing I couldn’t stop thinking about.

“You don’t have to do it” _‘But I wish you did’_ I mentally added. All of a sudden, his eyes met mine and I asked myself once again if I was thinking out loud. His lips closed over mine, trapping my lower lip between them. I answered ruthlessly, grasping his nape and drawing him close against me. His tongue found mine, exploring each other’s mouth – slow, trying to pace our breathing –.

He then moved away from me and turned back to the counter. “Next time, stop the bloody bullet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!


End file.
